The only way out is through
by Sandy-it-is
Summary: Kevin has worked out the next trial and Sam and Dean work together to complete the task. Takes place after 'Remember the Titans'. (M rating depending on the reader)
1. Chapter 1

This is my very first Fanfiction story. This story takes place after the last episode Season 8 episode 16 Remember the Titans. I do not fear constructive criticism so don't be afraid to hold back.

It's obvious I don't own anything otherwise I wouldn't be on site. Hope you enjoy.

**The Only Way Out is Through**

Sam was beginning to lose his appetite. Food just wasn't on his mind anymore and with the persistant coughing of blood and chest pain it was gradually becoming difficult not to show discomfort.

The bunker was wonderfully spacious but ever since the first trial, it seemed to have shrunk in size as his brother become agonizingly suffocating. Dean watched his every move and for a while, Sam was doing a great job of assuring Dean (even himself) that everything was alright. But with the stress his body was having on his mental state, Sam was much more mean than usual, more snappy and he couldn't seem to focus much on anything other than getting his breathing under control and not stir up his new shadow in the shape of his brother.

Trying to act normal for Dean was frustratingly hard and tiresome work.

Sam's morning routine would be to cough himself awake. Then he'd wash himself up sneaking a few more coughs in the safety of the sound of the shower, get dressed and head straight for the library. He'd chose a book (or books) to read for the day, settle down at the desk and stare at a page unseeingly for 10 minutes until Dean appeared from the kitchen offering breakfast and fresh coffee, snapping him out of the stupor.

Afterwards, Dean would wolf down his meal while watching Sam take one bite in the space of 20 minutes, absentmindedly moving food around the plate then eventually giving up the facade. Pushing the plate aside he'd pull his book closer almost as if to shield himself from Dean's watchful gaze.

Sam would hear a deep sigh and he'd peek through his bangs. The look on Dean's face spoke volumes, but Dean would nod to himself and purse his lips, not allowing himself to indulge in his feelings of pent up rage and worry knowing if he did, it would most likely turn into an unhealthy argument full of wrathful words and flying fists.

Although seemingly, today was a different ball game because Dean had had enough of keeping the peace. It was painfully obvious it was getting them no where.

"Hey, er, Sam? You're doing ok. Right?" Dean stared at Sam's head.

"Mmm." Sam continued reading, not bothering to move his eyes from the page.

Dean cleared his throat a little miffed by Sam's rudeness. Dean moved from the wall his back was resting on and placed his mug of coffee beside the book Sam was reading, trying to get his brother's attention or at least some reaction.

"What is it you want Dean? I'm not in the mood to play games."

Dean snorted aloud.

"Really, _you_ not in the mood?" Dean was going to take advantage of this. This was good. This was progress.

"Yes."

"Well, you never seem to be in the mood for anything these past couple of weeks. Why is that?"

Finally Sam looked up from his book but faced the bookshelves, still trying to avoid Dean. He looked uncomfortable.

"Stop trying to think of a lie Sam. I know something is going on with you that you're obviously doing a crap job of trying to hide from me. I've got ears Sam and I'm sure as shit ain't blind." Dean's eyebrows rose, eyes burning a hole where Sam's face should be. '_I dare you to lie to me_, _I dare you_' he thought. "Talk!" He demanded.

Sam appeared to be on the verge of spilling the truth but then his face changed and Dean watched as several walls slammed shut before him. A sickly sinking feeling pulled in his gut as his brother slowly got up from the desk to leave.

Dean moved swiftly in front of his brother, blocking his path.

"We're talking Sam whether you like it or not. I deserve to know what's going on."

"Oh, so you're telling me that Mr. 'no chick-flick moments' finally wants to talk about feelings. How comforting." Sam sneered and moved away from his brother. Dean stepped right back in front of him.

"Don't patronise me, Sam."

Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"Look, I know you're worried about me and I get it. I do. But… you don't need to be so leave it alone alright?"

"No. You're not fine like you've told me I don't know how many times. I know you and _if_ I'm right, all this," Dean moved his arms around, wildly, "has something to do with the trials."

Sam ran his hands through his hair and breathed through his nose, keeping his anger in check. 'God, _why_ does he have to be so fucking persistant?'.

"Leave. It. Alone."

"Or what?" Dean challengeD. He's ready to punch it out of his brother if he has to.

Suddenly Sam doubles over and begins coughing hard. Dean's eyes are like scaucers unsure of how to handle the sudden turn of events. Sam moans in pain as the coughs continue on harshly. Blood freckles the floor. Dean lightly touches his brothers shoulder trying to at least be of some assistance.

The coughing stops. The silence is deafening as they stare at each other unsure what to say to one another. Dean looks at the blood on the floor. He is so, _so_ mad right now.

"This is what you've been hiding from me?" he replies incredulously. Sam rubs his aching chest looking away again.

"This is bad. Like… hospital bad!" he rubs a hand down his face. "After everything you told me about you wanting to live and that you can see the light and all that bull-"

"Dean."

"No Sam! I mean when were you gonna tell me about this, huh?"

"Dean?"

"Just don't Sam. No more lying!"

"Dean just shut up for a sec! I think your phone's ringing." Dean turned his head in the direction of the sound, his jacket resting on the back of a seat, listening to his phone calling for him from his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the caller ID and pressed the green button sending Sam a warning look of '_this isn't over_'.

"Hey Kevin." Sam looked up at Dean sharply. He could hear Kevin;s enthusiastic voice on the other side as Dean nodded apprehensively, agreeing here and there to whatever he was saying.

"Sure Kevin, we'll be there as soon as we can." The call ended. For a split second fear passed Dean's features.

"What's up."

"Kevin wants us to meet him. He's worked out the second trial."

**… **

The drive to Kevin's was quiet. Painfully so.

Neither brother was prepared to break the ice or at least try to understand each other and at this point, Sam wasn't surprised. Dean always found difficulty trying to comprehend Sam's actions. Deciding to take advantage of the trip, Sam napped.

As the rusty boat gradually grew closer Dean became nervous. His eyes would flit over towards Sam and then back at the road, hands squeezing the wheel until his knuckles turned white. For some reason Dean knew this one was going to be hard on Sam. With the way he's been acting lately like he could sleep for eternity and then the coughing up blood, Dean was mentally prepared to call the whole thing off and find another solution.

He parked the car a ways back as to not call attention to Kevin's hideout. Dean shook Sam awake.

"We're here."

Sam rubbed his face, coughed and then got out the car. He followed behind his brother. It seemed Dean needed to feel in control of something and Sam was going to at least give him that.

**…**

The room smelled of old coffee as mugs laid around the room unwashed. Paper littered the table and surrounded Kevin as he sat in his seat writing something down. Dean could tell just by looking at him that he hadn't been taking good care of himself.

Dean walked over greeting him.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Face pulled in confusion, Dean shook one of his pill containers. There was no sound and he nodded his head. Kevin was high.

"You called _us_ remember?" Kevin looked between the two brothers, lost. Dean watched him expectantly waiting for the penny to drop… and the it clicked.

"Oh yeah! Wow sorry, didn't mean to shout. It just sorta—yeah. I finally worked out the next trial."

Sam moved closer to Kevin listening intently.

"What is it."

"Well…" Kevin ruffled through some sheets of paper on his desk. Dean looked at Sam and rolled his eyes.

"Got it! Um, it says you would need to save a soul from Hell. This soul would have to be undeserving of such a place and you would _need_ to have a bond with this soul, whether it be blood or love. That kinda thing." Sam nodded.

"What do I have to do."

"The point of this task is to convince this soul to want into Heaven. So, do you know anyone down there who wasn't supposed to be there?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Dean felt sick to his stomach remembering the time he made the deal with Death, having to chose which brother to save. He'd never be able to forgive himself, even though he knew he had no choice. Kevin noticed how they didn't want to share much else so he continued.

"Sam, I don't know any other way to say this—you would need to torture a Demons soul."

"What?" Dean boomed.

"The host would have to be dead so only the demon resides. It says that the torturing only stops when the Demon prays for God or is open to God"

"That sounds impossible! I mean getting a demon to pray for God, what the hell?" Dean looked at Sam exasperated.

"Look I don't make the rules, I'm only the translator. Anyway when you've completed that you'd need a willing psychic to take your mind to Hell and pull the soul out and into the body of the host." Kevin stood up and walked around his desk. "All you need to do is touch the soul, so the psychic is only there for connection into the other realm. When you've done that you have to try and achieve the even further impossible which is convincing this damaged soul to go to Heaven."

Sam snorted. "I'm not sure any psychic is going to just willingly do something like that. They'd have to be crazy." Dean eyebrows furrowed together.

"That would make _us_ crazy, Sam."

"My point exactly." Kevin burst out laughing.

"Ha, you guys are weirdos!" Sam and Dean stared down at Kevin.

"Yeah and you've had enough pills to put down an elephant. Go rest." Dean commandeered, staring at Kevin pointedly.

"Rest. Mmm, that sounds good."

.

- What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark when they left the boat. Kevin had given them an incantation for the astral trip into and out of hell and another for when the trial was complete.

Sam sat slumped in his seat fast asleep. As soon as they got into their car to leave, Sam was already dozing off.

Dean's mind was overflowing. Morbid memories of relentless pain and suffering; tortures the mind would find impossible to conjure. Of little brothers falling into the deepest and worst part of hell and the recollection of emotions of not being able to save them. Him making that selfish deal to bring Sam back and the look of aguish in his brothers eyes. The list was endless and Dean was silently drowning.

The only thing he was capable of doing was driving. It was his only defence against his own mind.

"God, I needs me some whiskey."

Dean wanted, no, needed to be numb right know. He didn't want to think about Sam's impending doom trying to close the gates of hell. The coughing up blood. The lethargy, the decline in his health from not eating enough and Sam's rage suddendly rearing it's ugly head. He wondered if this all had to do with when Sam read out the incantation after the first trial. 'He's been acting strange ever since' Dean thought.

Adam was a whole other mess and Dean wasn't sure how to feel about the situation. This second trial may be the stone that kills two birds but Dean was worried that because he'd been in the cage for so long, there was no way of knowing if Adam would be compos mentis enough _to _save.

Dean breathed in deeply letting the air escape through his nose. He knew that if Sam couldn't save their little brother, it would crush him to nothing. Dean and Sam had been through so much shit together – from the very start – but Adam and his brother had experienced a different type of bond that was created in hell.

Dean felt he had failed Adam. His little little brother thrown into a world he never had the chance to fully understand; instantly becoming a victim of a celestial war before he could start living, to then be tortured by two Archangels in Hell for centuries.

He looked over at Sam who was staring through the window, his eyes glazed. He hadn't noticed Sam had awakened.

Dean felt compelled to say something. He had a sudden urge to resolve something so the first thing that came to mind was-

"I think you should get yourself checked up. See if a Docter can help you out a bit."

Sam slowly moved his head to look at Dean. His face was the epitome of confusion.

"What are you talking about…?" Dean stared pointedly at Sam. Yeah, he understood what his brother was getting at.

"Random much."

"Look Sam I don't want a fight. All I'm doing is giving a temporary solution to help fix coughing up blood problem. I mean, this is serious stuff"

"No."

"At least think about it."

"I've aleady thoguht about it. My answer remains the same."

"Is that final?"

"Yep."

'Well that worked' Dean thought. Noting that nothing good would come out of winding up his brother, he decided to leave it there for now and diverge onto a different subject. He'll bring it up later.

"Do you think Missouri would be willing to help? I mean, she may be small but she's a tough woman."

The car was quiet for a full five minutes. Dean let him think, Sam had a lot on his shoulders.

"I think this is a good thing." Sam replied.

"What, Missouri?"

"No." Sam sounded distant. "This could be our chance to save Adam from hell and not go through what I had to. Or worse."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked at his hand with the scar resting on his lap, the hand Dean helped him discover as a way through the mess his mind was, not so long ago.

"He would get a chance to be back in Heaven, to heal and see his mother again."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed together. He didn't want to burst Sam's bubble or sound cruel, but he didn't have any high hopes about this task.

"Look Sam, this does sound good but remember he's been in Hell for… I don't even want to think about how long. I think he's gonna be too messed up and so far from human that he may not comprehend what Heaven is - or even understand what you're saying."

Sam shook his head.

"How can you say that Dean? This is our one and only chance we're ever gonna have to get him out of that place and you've already turned it down. That's fucking bullshit!"

"I know you're angry Sam-"

"You're damn right I am."

"But you have to consider the possibility that he might not want to. What if he can't make that descision, Sam. What then?"

Sam turned to look at Dean dead in the eye.

"Then we make him. We are not going to pretend anymore that we don't remember him. This is a one shot deal and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him out. I _know_ you want to save him too."

"I do."

"And I know that you're biggest fear is failure. Failing our brother."

Dean tensed his jaw.

"All we need to do is have each others backs. We need to be strong 'cause there is no room for fucking this up." Sam jutted his jaw emotionally and looked back out the window.

"I can't fail him. Not again."

…

Six days later going through their list for a psychic and not one of them was willing to help with the ritual. Everyone of them turned it down. Becoming desperate, Dean had tried to bribe with money, still non would break.

Sam and Dean decided to not bring Missouri into it unless it was absolutely imperative. They wanted to keep their friend safe. Dean didn't admit it but he was afraid of seeing her again.

Obviously they knew what was at stake and wasn't stupid enough to go through something as terrible as hell. Dean wondered not for the first time if he really did have lose screws in his head.

"Probably." He said to himself out load.

Sam face appeared from behind his laptop.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dean sighed loudly. Dragging a hand down his face, he looked at his list. He only had about ten left to call but he felt it was useless. No one wanted to do this trial with them. Dean didn't blame them - it was mental suicide.

Sam started coughing again. The pain this was causing his brother was evident.

Dean left the library to get Sam a glass of water.

He came back handing it to him.

Sam poured it down like a shot. "Thanks." Graduallly the coughs tappered down as he tried catching his breath. Rubbing his chest, Dean noticed how exhausted he looked.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. He needed to get some things off his chest. "Sam I'm worried. You're not eating and half the time you don't seem fully awake. And with the constant coughing using up what energy you have left," Dean's voice hardened. "I fear this trial we're on is gonna kill you."

"Well, I don't what you want me to say Dean. This was to be expected, it being the trials to closing the gates."

"I friggin knew it!" Sam ignored his outburst.

"God doesn't ever go light, so why should he now?"

Dean could feel his frustation growing inside and pouring from his mouth like lava. "It's _God_, Sam! He has the power to do anything—everything. He's supposed to be the one to close the Gates, not you. They shouldn't even be open in the first place!"

Sam's face screwed up in pain.

"Gosh Dean did you have to shout so close to me?"

Dean's face turned from anger to stone. "This isn't a joke Sam. This is our fucked up reality we live in – been living ever since…" He deflated.

Sam eyebrows furrowed together. "Since what?"

"Nothing, Just, do you think we should call Missouri now? I'm sure she'd be perfect. Willing and able." Dean smiled a little, trying lift the mood.

His brother smirked. "Aren't you afraid of her?"

"Me, scared of Missouri?" Dean scoffed. "I think not, brother."

"Yeah sure, I believe you." Sam sniffed. "Anyway, I think we should. At this point we've haven't got a choice."

"Okay." Dean nodded. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "But you're calling her."

"Ha, not scared?" he chuckled.

"Shut up."

…

Going through their father's journel, he searched for the page of Missouri's address and home number. Sam hoped it would still work.

Sam put the number in his mobile and pressed the call button. It rang for a few seconds and then the sound of her voice came through the other end.

"Hello, speaking?"

"Er, Hi? It's me, Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd hear from you again. How's your brother?"

Sam looked at Dean.

"He's doing alright. I need to ask you a favour."

"What is it?"

"I didn't want to ask this of you but we need your help with something. You should know that it's very dangerous so don't feel guilty if you refuse."

"Tell me, sugar."

Sam sighed. "We need your help closing the gates of hell."

"What!" She didn't think it would be something as big as that. "Child, is this even safe to talk about over the phone!"

"Er…"

Dean heard her voice shouting and saw how Sam was cringing.

"You two need to get over to mine. This is way too important."

"Yeah you're right. We'll be there ASAP."

"Good. See you both soon. And tell Dean to stop worrying, I'm not that bad."

Sam said goodbye and ended the call.

"Missouri said to—"

"Yeah, I know Sam. I heard." Dean got up from the desk.

"We better get our shit together. Be ready to hit the road in 10 minutes."

"Yes sir."


	3. Chapter 3

The drive to Missouri's was tiresome.

At one point Dean was going to literally drag Sam out of the car to the hospital, purposely parking outside the emegency doors, after Sam almost lost consciousness from a coughing fit. But to Deans's frustration, Sam wasn't backing down. Not for his brother and more importantly for himself. All he wanted was for Dean to carry on driving until they were facing Missouri's front door.

The way Sam saw it was; the faster the trial was completed the quicker Adam would be out of Hell. Dean couldn't say anything after that. How could he? But that didn't change the fact that Dean wanted his brother safe. Dean grudgingly drove them away from the hospital doors and was back on the main road.

Dean hoped that Sam was right.

As houses and the roads began to look familiar, they commented on how close they were to Missouri's.

Sam felt weird. They hadn't seen Missouri in years and now all of a sudden, they were going to see her. He wondered what she'd be like now, if she'd looked any older or if inside her house appeared any different. Gradually his thoughts slowed down as he felt himself feeling all warm and fuzzy, his body sinking deeper into his seat as sleep pulled him back under. Dean saw from the corner of his eye Sam's head fall to the side and gently thump onto the window.

Dean squinted as the morning sun came into view as he tried to park in between two other cars on the opposite side of the road facing Missouri's home. The sun hid behind a large tree and Dean was grateful for small favours. God, his tired eyes burned.

Feeling the change in the motion of the car (or lack of), Sam awoke from his long slumber and began coughing. Dean grabbed a bottle of water from under his seat and put it in front of Sam's face, who took it gratefully.

"What's up?" Sam questioned, wondering why they weren't moving anymore. He absentmindedly rubbed at his chest while taking small sips of water. His coughs slowly died down.

Dean remained silent, watching Missouri's front door open and a woman rushing out heatedly. The woman turned around to face Missouri, shouting, her body rigid and her face red with rage.

Sam followed his brother's gaze. They could hear the lady shouting but couldn't work out what she was saying.

The yelling stopped and the woman stomped off, got into her car slamming the door shut and sped off, leaving Missouri standing there looking worried as she watched the car driving away. She looked across the road seeing Sam and Dean sitting in their Impala scrutinizing her.

She sighed dramatically and mouthed the words '_come on_' to the brothers.

…

Sam looked about noting how everything still looked exactly the same as last time, although it seemed Missouri appeared to have a few more wrinkles around her eyes. He wasn't sure.

"Wow, long time no see!" Missouri's eyes were full of wonder as she looked up at them, ushering the hunters into her living room. Dean and Sam settled onto her comfortable sofa.

"Do you want to get straight to business or-"

"No Dean," Missouri still looked worried but tried to mask it. "After what just happened outside, I just want to eat some breakfast. _Then_ we'll talk.

"So, you two want anything to drink? To eat? I'm making a fry up. I was sure you boys would be hungry when you got here." She advanced to the kitchen. It was obvious she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Who was Dean to stop her.

Sam was about to tell her that he was fine but Dean abruptly cut him off knowing what he was going to say before he said it. 'Gosh! His brother can be _so_ rude sometimes.'

"—Sure, that would be fantastic! Could we have Coffee please?"

…

The brothers sat there watching her thoughtfully.

Dean pondered on why Missouri wasn't being bullying him like before. He supposed they weren't the only ones that had changed over the years. Things happen.

"So, what was all that about with that lady earlier?" Dean said loudly so he could be heard.

"Mind your own business." Missouri stood at the kitchen doorway with her arms folded, a cross look upon her face. Maybe she hadn't changed.

Sam was curious too. "Well that woman was shouting herself hoarse at you. Why was she so upset?"

"Nothing… well actually it's not." She turned around and walked back into the kitchen. "It's just that her son died and she couldn't accept the fact that the boy wasn't willing to speak to her. So she accused me of being a fraud."

"Did her son tell you why he didn't want to talk with his mum?" Dean moved from his seat and walked over to the kitchen, his body resting on the doorframe watching Missouri preparing the coffee.

"The poor child was murdered by his father and she did nothing to stop it from happening."

"Oh." The brothers replied in unison.

"We're sorry to hear about that" Dean said.

Missouri put a frying pan on the stove and poured some oil into it. She turned to look at them.

"You boys have nothing to be sorry for. Anyway I'm dealing with it so I won't be needing your help. Now sit down and wait!"

Showing her back to Dean, he obeyed, looking like a little boy who just got told off.

...

The brothers leaned back into the sofa feeling strangely at home as they listened to her bustling about the kitchen; cupboards opening and closing, the sound of cutlery and plates and the fat from meat making popping noises as it touched the frying oil. The rich smell of coffee, the sweet smell of the meat, the eggs and bread toasting all mingled together into one delightful aroma as it wafted into the living room, making Dean's stomach growl aggressively.

A huge smile was plastered on Dean's face while he sniffed the air. Sam rolled his eyes.

Missouri called them over after she was done setting the dining table. Dean's eyeballs popped out of his head as he looked at how great everything looked. Even Sam looked like he was ready to fill his stomach for once.

"Why you both just standing there. The food's not gonna eat itself!"

They thanked her and the three sat down to eat.

"So. We need you to be part of a ritual to help complete a trial." Sam was ready to talk now.

"Sorry but I need small talk first. I haven't seen you boys in years and now you're eating breakfast a my table."

With his mouth crammed full of food, Dean watched Sam biting his tongue holding in his protest. One look on Missouri's face and he knew he needed to calm down.

Missouri poured herself some coffee.

"So how have you both been?" She truelly looked concerned.

"We're good, considering all the shit we've been through—still going through." Dean sipped from his mug of coffee.

She faced him and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry about your father."

They nodded in understanding. "It's been a long time now" Dean forced down his emotions.

"I can feel your energy's tainted with darkness. Pure evil has made it's mark on you both. Why am I picking this up?"

Sam munched on a piece of egg white, trying hide from her scrutiny.

"It's because we've both been to Hell."

"Oh my God!" She cried, putting her hand on her chest while she breathed heavily in distress. "I'm so sorry."

Sam dropped his fork onto his plate and glared at Dean. His brother wasn't going to be fazed by him at all. He thought it better to just get it all out in the open. What was the point of hiding? They needed her help so might as well tell her whatever she wanted to know.

"She would have found out anyway, Sam, you _know_ that. Better to hear it from us than be taken by surprise by someone else."

Sam grumbled to himself, knowing his brother was right.

Sam put a hand on Missouri's own, trying to sooth her from her trauma. She snatched her hand away from his. Sam looked hurt.

"I don't want to see."

She was sick to her stomach as unimaginable terrors played in her mind. It was impossible for her to eat another bite. She couldn't even finish her coffee.

"What foolish thing did you do to end up in a place like that?" She sounded angry. "How are you boys even here?"

Sam hunched over in his seat, his eyes momentarilly distant. "It's a very long story. I don't think you'd appreciate it." Sam didn't want to go over it, bringing up old pains he was only just about managing.

"I probably wouldn't."

Five minutes later she managed to pull herself together enough to speak. She decided to get straight to business.

"Alright. Well seeing as we've finished small talk, let's talk about why you're here."

…

"God, did you boys come here to give me a heart attack!" Missouri wasn't taking this whole 'closing the gates of Hell' trial thing well.

"Look, if it's too much for you to handle we understand." Sam was anxious. "You helping us out would put you in a lot of danger. But we've got no other options - we need a willing psychic. It won't work otherwise."

"Let me just catch my breath."

She got up from her seat at the table and walked around the room in a circle, tapping her hands on her thighs nervously.

Five minutes later, she stopped moving and fixed her eyes upon them.

"Alright. I've thought about it and I'm willing to help you boys out."

She nodded to herself. The brothers exhaled.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

Missouri frowned at him.

"Why would I lie for something as important as this?"

"Alright. We'll need to look for a place to set up shop so…" Dean stood up to stretch then pulled out his car keys from his pocket.

"Sam, you coming or…?" Dean looked at him expectantly in mid stride towards the door.

"No. I think I'll stay here with Missouri."

"Alright. See you two later." Slamming the front door shut behind him Sam turned to look at Missouri.

She looked a little lost.

"Sam, do you want something strong to drink?"

"What? It's eleven in the morning!"

"Don't sas me boy!" Offended, she walked off into a room and came back with a bottle of Irish whiskey.

"…And don't judge me!"

- I'm English so I'm not sure if there's an American term for 'Fry up'. If there is I'd like to know. Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

Caving in after Missouri convinced Sam of having a glass of whiskey with her, they left the dining table leaving the dirty dishes; Sam slumping into the couch and Missouri sitting in her single chair across from him, sipping at their glasses full of whiskey.

Eyes burning and stomachs becoming warm with alcohol, they laughed and talked about Sam's experiences on the road for all those years and Missouri chatted about her clients. They conversed for hours about everything and nothing and Sam relaxed and enjoyed being listened to instead of judged – to not have to hold back how he felt or what he said in fear of hurting someone. It was nice. Sam hadn't felt such comfort and security in such a long time that the thought of it almost made him cry.

It was well into the afternoon, and Missouri found herself staring at Sam passed out on the couch. She could tell he wasn't doing so good. During the whole time connecting, Missouri noticed the way he sat funny, how he'd suddenly burst into a coughing fit and the way his skin looked a little tight as if he was lacking in nutrients. Something bad was happening to him.

Standing up and stretching the kinks out her back, she shuffled towards her bedroom, holding onto the walls to keep from falling into a drunken heap on the floor. It'd been a while since she'd had a drink, just because she never had a reason to. But now knowing what the near future had in store for her, what she had chosen to do for these boys – for the world even – she had the excuse to get a little hammered.

In her bedroom she opened her closet, getting out a large, neatly folded beige wooly blanket and a spare pillow.

Back in the living room, she shifted Sam's body straight on the couch, placed the pillow under his head and layed the blanket over him.

She collasped into her chair. Squinting at the uninviting dining table, she decided to clean up later. She couldn't be bothered with something like that at the moment. She just wanted to sit down in the quiet and feel happy drunkeness flowing through her veins.

…

Bats flit about the evening sky, as Dean headed back to Missouri's after taking a few hours off at the local bar. It had been a long day, driving from Lebanon to Lawrence right after a mind boggling week of stress and restless nights, then spending the rest of the day looking for a place to set up the next trial. It needed to be close to civilization for emergency reasons but also far enough so Sam could torture a Demon without anyone hearing the screams.

Dean was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around that. At the time it was mentioned, he hadn't given it much thought, or any to be exact, but now that the time had come he was unsure of how he felt. Torture was normal in their line of work when they needed to get answers from a monster. But this was different. A demon was created from extreme tortures for hundreds of years, so his brother had to make it feel severe levels of pain for it to plead for God's mercy.

Dean didn't want to think about what Sam would have to do, places in his mind he'd need to go to achieve the requirements of the trial. Dean would need to be strong for his brother and try not to delve into his own dark memories.

**...**

Missouri grunted awake to the sound of thumping at her door. From the street light shining through her window into her dark living room, she could see Sam's form on the sofa in the same fashion she'd left him in.

The banging at the door repeated.

"Alright, alright Dean I'm coming!" The room spun as she stood up and made for the front door.

Opening the door she found Dean looking irritated. Missouri blocked the doorway with her body squinting at him.

"About time" Dean replied impatiently.

Missouri screwed up her face.

"About time? Child what took you so long to get back here?" She rubbed her temples, feeling the dull ache in her brain.

"Ugh, I can't concentrate right now. Come inside, your letting the cold in." Dean sighed loudly as she walked away.

Inside, Dean found Sam sleeping peacefully on Missouri's couch. An almost empty whiskey bottle and two glasses sat on the coffee table.

"Did you find a place?" Missouri asked from behind him.

"Yeah, on the egde of town. It should do us good for however long we need it."

She nodded.

"Hey, you alright?" Dean raised his brows, looking closely at her. "You're drunk aren't you?"

Missouri chuckled, then groaned. "Obviously not enough"

Dean smiled at her. Putting a hand onto his shoulder, she looked into his eyes.

"Look Dean, I know I've been hard on you. I do it not because I hate you, but because you find it difficult to deal with people being nice to you. I treat you this way because I believe it makes you comfortable - and because it's funny watching you squirm"

"Yeah, I bet." Dean folded his arms.

She moved away. "I'm going to bed now 'cause I'm really exhaused. You can sleep in the spare room down the hallway," she pointed behind her. "if you want someone to talk to, just ask. Nothing wrong with needing a person to listen to you."

"Thanks."

Few minutes later, Dean could hear thunderous snores resounding from her bedroom.

…

"Right, you ready?" Dean assessed his brother. He looked good this morning apart from his red rimmed eyes from puking. Mabye he should make him drink more often.

"Yep."

"Hey, Missouri we, er, appreciate everything. We'll give you a call for when we're ready." Dean was grateful. What she was going to do for them was a lot.

"No problem." She hugged them both and waved goodye, standing at her front door as they got into the Impala.

Twenty minutes later, they parked outside an abandoned house. Trees surrounded the property and other nearby homes were a five minute drive away. From it's condition, it didn't appear to have been left that long ago.

Old newspapers and magazines piled at the front door. Flowers shriveled and weeds suffocated the flower beds from lack of care.

Inside, a few mouldy dishes layed about the kitchen surface and dinner table. Large cobwebs snugged the walls in high places. Small piles of mice droppings sat in the corners of the living room and a fine layer of dust coated everything. There was running water, no electricity, but they'd found large gas bottles in the cupboard under the stairs. Everything still looked in good condition and there were two decent mattresses for them to sleep on. Even the couch hadn't been destroyed. '_Dean did a good job_' Sam thought approvingly.

They tidyed up the house a bit and chose which room would be best for the ritual. Later they went into the back garden, digging a hole to make a grave.

Hours passed and the midday sun beat down on their backs. Finishing up, they went inside for something to drink and afterwards Dean agreed to get them some lunch.

During the time Dean was out, Sam was starting to feel the dread of what was to come. He was so scared that he wasn't going to be able to torture a Demon into submission. He didn't want to fail Adam. This was it for him.

He prepared the room they'd chosen, which was situated at the back of the house, the room's window facing the garden. He painted Devil's traps upon the ceiling and the doorway for precaution. An iron bed frame with a thin mattress layed flat on the springs sat in the middle of the room, underneath the Devil's trap with iron shackles attached for the arms and legs. Salt was placed on the windowsills and the doorway for insurance. Sam layed out his torture equipment onto a desk.

Satisfied as he checked everything was in it's right place, he felt adjusted.

Sam begun the ritual of summoning the Demon.

Dean came back with their food to the sound of hysterical laughter coming from a back room.

As Dean walked further in, he called out his brother's name and heard Sam's deep reply.

His brother stood in the kitchen arms folded defensively, sholders tense.

"Brought us lunch." Sam nodded and took his food silently. "You alright?"

Sam raised his eyebrows pinning Dean with his eyes.

"Sorry, stupid question. Well how long do you think you'll need to do this for?"

Sam shrugged, slowly munching on his tasteless salad.

"Who knows how long it'll take. I just need to keep getting creative until it caves."

Dean sat down, caustiously looking at his brother.

"If you need to call this off, I'm right behind you. God knows were this could lead. There could be another way somehow."

Sam fisted his hand and slammed it on the kitchen surface.

"Another way! Why are being so dense Dean? You know there isn't!"

"Look, I'm just trying to give you an option. 'Cause the way I see it—this could end up bad. I mean, if you need to torture a Demon for _this_ trial, I'm not so sure I want to know what the last trial is gonna be!"

"Then what Dean. What is this 'other option' out there that you know of?" Sam watched Dean expectantly.

Dean deflated. "Look, I don't know okay. All I know is that we've always found our way around things before. I don't see the harm of—"

"No!" Sam moved to make his way out the kitchen, leaving his unfinished, hardly touched food.

"I have a resposibilty Dean to see this through. There is _nothing_ you can say that'll make me change my mind. I thought you'd be able to understand how crucial this is."

"Don't make me out to be the enemy here, Sam. He's my brother too! I had to watch both my brothers fall into Hell—"

"Yeah and I had to watch him get torn apart!"

Sam was panting hard, trying his damnest to keep everything in. The laughing from the back room grew louder, the Demon hearing everything that had just been said.

Dean just stood there speechless. He didn't know what to say. His brother hadn't said anything about Hell so for him to bring it up now, showed how important this was to him. Dean was getting too caught up in trying to keep him safe yet again, in turn making his brother pull further away from him.

Sam's hands leaned onto his knees as he began coughing hard. The stronger the coughs the harder it was for him to breathe and so Dean lead him to a seat, poured tap water into a metal cup and placed it on the table in.

The coughing wouldn't stop and Sam rushed off his seat, the chair toppling over as blood poured from his mouth into the sink. Wiping cold sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, his palms leaned on the sink as he gradually caught his breathe. Dean put the cup of water from earlier into his hand and Sam gulped it down.

Dean wathced his brother in pain. He disappeared for a few minutes and Sam could hear Dean telling the Demon to shut up. He reappeared with some medication for Sam's discomfort.

Sam took them with some water and afterwards stood there awkwardly.

"I'm sorry Dean, for what I said. I know he's your brother too."

Dean nodded.

"It's alright Sam, I…" Dean didn't want to say he understood because he didn't. Not from his brother's perspective of Hell anyway.

"Sam, this is hard for me, to see you like this. All I wanted was to be the one to have _this_ on my shoulders so you wouldn't have to."

The Demon shouted something unintelligable.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"So there isn't an innocent victim inside of it?"

Sam straightened, feeling comfortable at the change of subject.

"Yeah. I used an incantation Kevin gave me for that. I can tell you for sure it's 100 percent Demon."

"Alright."

Sam bumped off the sink to leave the kitchen. Dean looked at his unfinished food sitting there and frowned disapprovingly.

"You're not gonna eat that?"

"Nah. Later."

Dean sniffed, finally opening his bag of food.

"Good. With the size that you are, I don't need you keeling over because you eat like you have the stomach of an ant."

Sam walked out the room.

"Whatever Dean. I'll eat later."

Dean took a large bite out his burger and listened to Sam's footsteps grow distant. '_Yeah_,_ sure you will'_ he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke up early to the sound of birds tweeting on a tree nearby the house. The 8 o'clock sun lit the far corner of his room leaving a warm glow and from his bed he watched the as dust particles swirled around in the rays of the sun. Feeling too awake to stay in bed, he stretched and left the room to get cleaned up. After getting dressed, he headed downstairs with a note telling his brother that he'd gone out to get breakfast. He placed it on the kitchen table and went to check up on the Demon, who laid out on the mattress. It moved it's head to look at Dean and a slow grin stretched across it's face. Dean wasn't going to satisfy it by getting angry.

Appeased that everything appeared to be in good order, he locked the door and left the building.

Sam laid out on his back with his hands behind his head, quietly listening to his brother pull out of the drive. As he remained settled in bed, he analysed the last two and a half days spent torturing the Demon. He would slice, pierce and get a few good screams out of it but afterwards the Demon would curse and laugh in his face. It would not break.

Sam was holding himself back and he knew why. A few reasons being; afraid of staring into that dark place in his mind and the other, being Dean. Scared of what his brother would think of him.

After all these years; all the fights and disagreements of how they handled things differently, the psychic powers, Azazel's blood in his veins, the drinking Demon blood while using his powers, walking around Souless and all the other fucked up things he'd done, Sam _still _had insecurities of Dean abandoning him. '_Like he had abandoned Dean'_ Sam thought.

Yet again he had failed to rescue his brother when he needed him the most. Sam could hardly explain to himself why he hadn't looked for Dean. He had assumed his brother dead and his brain had stuck with that in mind the whole year. He couldn't seem to unstick it. He supposed from all the damage his brain had gone through, it was easier to believe such a thing, if only to function.

Downstairs, the Demon hollered Sam's name. It's deep male voice carried up the stairs and invaded Sam's ears.

Sam crossed his arms, longing for today to be the day.

**…**

When Dean came back he found his brother in the garden sitting on a bench. He could feel his brother's brooding vibes coming off of him.

Dean strode over to Sam, feeling a little unerved.

"Hey. What you doing out here?"

Sam turned his head to see his brother walking across the garden from the house towards him. He sighed heavily and went back to tracing the wood patterns from the bench table with his fingers.

"Nothing." Dean took a seat in front of him. "It's just that…, no. Nothing."

Sam looked at his brother and then looked away. Dean huffed.

"What's _nothing_?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing Dean. There's nothing to say."

"Didn't look like it from where I was standing."

Sam sat there scrutinizing his brother. Dean watched stern faced, waiting for Sam to open up.

"Look, Dean. I'm fine." Sam sighed. "It's just that I'm – I'm having a difficult time with this you know. I'm so desperate to complete this task that I was even gonna ask you about how to torture. You know, 'cause you have experience." '_Awkward_' Sam thought.

Sam clamped up, awaiting the onslaught. He couldn't believe that he just blurted that out. Sam sneaked a look at his brother and to his surprise, Dean didn't look fazed at all—actually he seemed amused.

"You don't need to ask me about something like that Sam." Dean gave him a knowing glance and made to stand up.

"The only advice I can give you is… just really think about what could this particular Demon break. They all have a certain weakness. It's all mind, you'll find it. _If_ that is what you need to do to give you some ideas." Dean warned.

Dean traipsed back to the house, backwards.

"Now, enough of the overthinking and come inside for something to eat. You look like you need it—coffee especially."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Sam put a hand through his hair and tugged painfully.

**…**

Sam stood straight with his shoulders back showing the full extent of his height, staring unwaveringly at the Demon. Blood poured from its mouth, both cheekbones broken, nose bent to one side and as the Demon smiled up at him, the were spaces where teeth should be.

Salt glistened on deep gashes across it's torso.

Breathing deeply, Sam walked around the room in deep thought stopping in front of the window. As he stood there staring at the open grave in the garden, he thought about his brother, Adam, calling for Sam to save him.

Remembering the advice Dean gave him that morning, he filled his lungs with air ready to take the plunge.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to imagine how Adam looked from all the damage the Angels would have done to him in the Cage. He felt the darkness washing over him as he delved deeper into the blackness, squeezing his eyes tight and pushing his mind, hoping to force those hidden memories to the surface. In the background, he could hear the Demon talking.

"I bet Lucifer can't wait for you to return to him. You know you're going back to Hell, back in the Cage when you die?" The Demon sneered. "The Angels ain't gonna want your mangled soul tainting Heaven."

Lucifer's name bounced around his mind and he clung onto it, knowing the Fallen Angel's name would be a helpful trigger. He tried to ignore the pang of fear he felt in his chest at what the had Demon said.

As the darkness shrouded him, Sam began to shake as putrid smells of burnt flesh and fear filled his mind. Resting his forhead upon the window, a sharp pain stabbed inside his head—he could hear the sounds of screams melding with a Demonic roar that hurt his ears. It seemed to get louder and louder still. Memories came as fragments before his eyes as his surroundings became distant and the years of pain, anguish and no hope became familiar, cascading down upon his senses.

The demon's taunting became abstracted, but he could hear the hollow sound of it's laughter like it was underwater. Sam was lost forever and would never escape. He endured the pain of Lucifer's hands clenching tightly onto his soul, burning him with the cold. He couldn't scream, or fight. It was overwhelming.

With a loud roar ripping inside his mind, he was suddenly back in the dusty room with the Demon. Panting hard, he blinking rapidly. He squinted trying to decipher his surroundings, unsure if he was really back in the house.

"What was that?" Sam spun his head towards the Demon laying there with eyes full of speculation. It sounded a little afraid.

Sam's throat was parched as he gulped down what little spit he had left in his mouth. Clutching onto his body, he could feel coldness filling him from the inside. He shuddered from it.

"What was what?" Sam wasn't even sure why he was answering to the Demon.

"You… you spoke their language. I thought you said you didn't remember anything from down there."

Sam's face screwed up. "I-I don't."

He shivered violently, as he used the window ledge as leverage to pick himself off the floor. Sam felt dazed and detached. The room was spinning about him and he felt sick to his stomach. Bombarded with recollections of his time below, Sam staggered to the door and out the room. He needed to get out, he needed...

Dean walked into the hallway from upstairs to find Sam's back pressing firmly against the wall, clutching onto his shuddering body on the floor. Rushing towards his brother, he crouched down and assesed him.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam remained there teeth chattering. He couldn't speak, the cold was too much.

As Dean examined his brother closer, he realised what was going on. '_Shit, shit, shit_'

Dean locked the door, grabbed Sam under his shoulders and heaved him up. Sam went with the motion.

"Alright. You don't have to answer that right now. Let's just get you warm and we'll talk later."

The both of them shuffled awkwardly to the living room, Dean manouvering him towards the sofa. Sam sank down numbly, unaware of where he was in that moment. Watching Sam sqeezing painfully onto his arms, he sprinted upstairs and took the cover off his bed, then galloped back down to wrap it tightly around his brother. After 20 minutes of chattering teeth and a big brother worrying at his lip, Sam finally drifted off, settling into a deep sleep.

**…**

Sam awoke with a start to the darkness of night pressing against his eyes. He pressed a button on his wrist watch, lighting up the face. It was close to midnight.

Sam could hear Dean's voice rumbling upstairs.

Feeling his way around the room, he went into the kitchen to get a gas lamp. Lighting it up, he searched inside a draw for a tool, then made his way into the torture room.

Locking the door quietly behind him, the Demon watched him curiously as he walked towards the table and laid his source of light upon it.

Scrutinizing the battered body laid out before him, Sam stared at a sharp razor knife held in his hand.

Pushing the blade out Sam slowly placed it upon the nape of the Demons throat.

The Demon began panting.

"What are you gonna do with that."

Sam glared at it, watching it flinch under his gaze.

"Oh, I think you know."

Digging it into the flesh, he sliced downwards with surgical precision, stopping below the belly button. The Demon yelled out as fresh blood oozed from the cut.

Sam put the blade down next to the gas lamp and attempted to lift one side of the sliced skin from the muscle tissue. The Demon screamed loud, it's eyes turning black. Sam abruptly shoved his hand between the flap of skin and moved it around underneathe. The Demon shook it's head aggressively from side to side, the pain too much.

"Please. Stop!"

Sam smiled wide. He knew what was going to make this Demon break.

**…**

It's day four and the sun is beginning to set. For the past few days nows, all Dean could hear coming from the room where his brother spent most of his time, was hoarse screaming and perpetual sobbing.

Dean had a feeling that he didn't want to know what his brother was doing to the Demon, because with all the begging it was doing, it seemed that Sam was getting close to completing the first part of the trial. It was only a matter of time before the Demon broke completely.

The only time Sam came out was to go to the bathroom, eat or when he needed to clear his lungs. Apart from that, Dean wouldn't see much of him. Sam would tread carefully about the house trying to be as quiet as possible, avoiding his brother. Dean would see Sam sometimes poke his head around a corner to see if he was there and if he was, he'd disappear until Dean had gone. It was obvious that he didn't want to be seen. Dean found it not only upsetting but extrememely disconcerting.

His brother was growing furthur and furthur away from him. It was like Hell was dragging him back down again and this time Dean wasn't the one to help pull him to safety. This was something Sam had to control on his own.

He wondered if this was worth it. Sam convinced Dean that it was a necessary evil, there was no avoiding it if they wanted to save their little brother. Hopefully Sam wouldn't come out too messed up beyond repair.

Dean couldn't wait for it all to be over.

**…**

Four o'clock in the morning the screaming had finally stopped.

Sam sat stiffly on a wooden chair watching the deep red blood turned black from the dirty floorboards creeping slowly towards his boots. Sam listened to Dean's footsteps coming closer to the door.

"Hey, Sam. I'm going to bed now." Dean cleared his throat. "I think you should too. … Goodnight."

After a beat of Sam's remaining silence, there was a sigh and then Dean's boots clomped away in the other direction, becoming distant.

A soft murmur broke the stillness of the room.

Sam picked his head up to look at the Demon's flayed, unrecognizeable body.

It's unfocused, lidness eyes stared at the ceiling. Ragged breathes shook it's body.

Sam stood up and strode towards it.

"What did you just say?" He almost sounded exited.

The demon didn't stop mumbling as it continued to stare at the ceiling.

Putting his ear to it's mouth, Sam tried to understand what it was trying to say.

"Quaeso, deus salva me. Deus." It repeated it over and over again.

Sam frowned. 'Latin?'. Crossing his arms he racked his brain, trying to translate it. Then it dawned on him.

'Please—please God save me? Oh my God!'

Sam ran out the room, not bothering to lock the door.

**…**

Dean woke up from a happy dream to intrusive sound of a fist banging at his bedroom door. Huffing angrily, he flung the covers off and rubbed at his chest, still groggy from sleep.

Sam's voice boomed on the other side.

"Dean wake up man!"

The alertness in his brother's voice instantly cleared the fog in his mind. He hollered for his brother to come in.

Sam literally crashed into the room almost falling into Dean who stood there like a wall.

Putting him at arms length he searched Sam's face.

"What is it Sam?"

Struggling to get his panting under control, Sam smiled a full genuine, smile for the first time in days—months even.

"I've done it!"

"You've done what?"

"The Demon—it called for God to save him."

Dean rushed past his brother, making Sam lose his balance a little. He couldn't get downstairs fast enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTE:** Latin was used instead of Enochian because I couldn't get a full translation for the words I wanted to use for the incantations.

(used Google Translator for Latin so I don't know if it's 100% accurate)

From the open doorway Dean stood with eyes like scausers, flabergasted at the state of the Demon.

From where the Demon lay, a heap of raw skin sat on the floor, a pool of blood seeped out from beneath it and joined with the rest of the blood that dripped from the ends of it's fingers. Treading slowly into the room, Dean could see the exposed muscles, tendons and veins—Sam had removed all the skin from it's body. Bone could be seen from gashes that went too deep.

Dean walked slowly towards the Demon with a horrible twisting sensation in his gut.

As close as he felt comfortable, Dean stopped and hovered above it. From the stomach area a large opening had been made, exhibiting the contents of the insides. Dean could see the organs had been played around with, parts been moved out of place—some residing in wrong positions. Chunks of salt sat inside melting into the flesh.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Sam hovering at the door. He didn't bother to acknowledge his brothers presence.

At the top of the torso, the ribcage had been ripped open, shards of broken bone jutted out like knifes where it had been snapped from the body. The Demons chest flopped out on both sides like petals. Dean watched the lungs filling and releasing air slowly. The heart pumped irratically, squelching blood out of the body.

From the doorway Sam observed his brother assessing the mangled beast he had created from days of pain and suffering. Strangely Sam felt nothing for what he had done. The sensation of numbness crawled into his mind and wrapped around it like cacoon, making him come across dull and emotionless. Dean was unsettled by it.

Pushing worried thoughts for his brother down, Dean trudged towards it's bald head as he heard the low rasping sound coming from it's throat. It's lipless mouth twitched from struggling to move. Squatting down to put his ear up close, the Demon words were identifiable. Dean couldn't believe his ears—his brother had really done it.

"Wow." Dean murmured under his breath. Spinning his head around he looked up at Sam in surpise.

"I think it's time for us to bring Missouri over, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah. But someone has to stay here and watch the Demon."

"I don't think it's gonna be going anywhere anytime soon." Dean chuckled nervously. Standing up he walked over to his brother and clapped him on the shoulder.

Sam pursed his lips looking pointedly at his brother.

"Alright. You go, I'll stay here and keep watch. You probably need the change of scenery." Dean waved his hand about the room.

Sam shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good to stay."

Dean nodded, mostly to himself and walked past Sam into the hallway towards the kitchen. He threw on his jacket and hollered.

"Go eat something. Have a beer at least—you've been going at this for hours."

"Sure thing." Sam shouted back.

Dean snatched up his keys, checked his pocket for his phone and headed out the door to his car. He wondered how Missouri was going to take the sight of the Demon. '_She's gonna be in_ _for a shock. For once she'll be speechless_.' Dean smiled to himself at his crude thought.

**…**

The drive with Missouri was short, sweet and to Deans satisfaction, it was really quiet.

Throughout the whole journey she had sat in the passenger seat forcefully rubbing circles into her temples, her eyes squinting in pain—a telltale sign of a headache. Dean would every so often snatch glances at her.

Dean was tempted to ask if she wanted anything for her discomfort but knew he would only end up pissed off from getting unnecessarily snapped at just for trying to help.

He didn't feel the need to create the stepping stones for an awkard atmosphere.

**…**

Sam sat in the living room staring pensively at his fifth bottle of beer, absentmidedly picking at the sticker gone dry. The front door was thrown wide open immediatley making Sam jump out of his stupor and watched a miserable face Missouri bustle inside with Dean in tow.

Situating themselves into the living room, Sam stood up offering Dean a beer from their cooler box.

Dean looked at the emty bottles sitting on the chipped coffee table and chuckled.

"Getting the party started already, brother?"

Sam threw him a condescending look, obviously not impressed.

Dean gulped down his beverage then gasped, slamming his empty bottle on a small table which stood next to a wall. Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he looked at Missouri's disgusted face. A small scene played in his head of him showing Missouri the skinless Demon and her instantly freaking out over it. He chuckled to himself. It was better there anyway because he knew his brother wouldn't approve. He smiled at her from across the room.

Cutting her eyes at him, Missouri hunched over with her head in her hands. Sam took note.

"Hey Missouri, you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just stressed. You two got any painkillers?" Sam nodded and surfed through his duffle bag, pulling out the required medicine.

Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously with nervous energy. "Do think we should get set up then?"

Sam flicked his gaze over to Dean as he passed the pills over the Missouri. She pulled out a small bottle of water from her hand bag.

"We're already set up." Sam pointed at the piece of paper siting on the table with the ready incantations for the ritual. "All we need is Missouri, the incantations and somewhere for me to lay." Sam pointed at the sofa. "I'm ready."

Missouri looked up at Sam. "What will happen when we get there?"

He looked down at her apologetically.

"I don't know. Kevin told me that you would be like a beacon for Adam. You'll be able to sense him as his presense becomes stronger."

"Good. Let's get this over with then."

After ten minutes, Missouri's brooding had dissipated as the pain reseded and Sam relaxed out on the sofa with her both her hands clasped on the sides of his head as she sat on a wooden chair placed behind the armrest. Dean stood resting on the wall with his arms crossed, his body full of tension as he watched them, knowing what they were about to do, but frustated for not having the power to stop it.

Missouri looked at the piece of paper sitting on the table, freshing her memory, then looked down at Sam's face at his eyes shut tight. His palms laid flat on his stomach and feet were set comfortably on the opposite armrest. Taking a deep calming breath, she shut her eyes and spoke the incantation out loud.

"Descenderunt in profundum inferi exigimus receptum iustam animam a Verbo Dei…"

After a few beats, nothing happened. She repeated it.

"Descenderunt in profundum inferi exigimus receptum iustam animam a Verbo Dei!"

All of a sudden Sam's breathing began to quicken. Dean stood up straight ready to protect as fear poured down his spine.

"Sam!"

Missouri's fingers clawed into the sides of his head as she whimpered. A slow trickle of blood seeped from her nostrils.

Sweat glistened his brother's forhead, his hands earlier laying calmly on his stomach now were at his sides clenched tightly.

Then as quickly as it started Sam's breathing slammed on the brakes and evened out. Missouri's face became slack and her hands smoothed back into place.

"What the hell?"

Dean rubbed a hand down his face slowly and slumped backwards into the wall.

He felt so old inside.

**…**

Sam and Missouri's senses were instantly overwhelmed by the sweet rotting stench of death and fear and the sounds of things unearthly. They stood there breathing hard in the pitch darkness eyes wide trying to find a light source. Missouri's hand held on Sam's wrist painfully tight but he didn't notice.

With great difficulty Sam tried to find the will inside himself and be the rock for them both. They needed to search for way out.

"Sam, what do we do?" Missouri shouted. Sam fumbled blindly putting his lips close to her ear.

"Hey, hey just—try and stay focused okay. Keep holding on to me, I think we should start walking and see where this place takes us."

Sam could feel her head nodding fast. Grasping onto her for self reassurance, he walked slowly hoping there wasn't anything they could possibly fall down into.

For what felt like hours Sam felt something hard under his hands. As he groped at it he realised that he had found a door.

The screaming had dimmed down but the smell gradually became more intense. Sam's gag reflexes were becoming stronger but nothing came up. Pushing against the door with one hand the other still attached to Missouri he felt it give way a little. Missouri sensing what needed to be done assisted him.

Light filtered through the gap of the door as it slowly opened.

**…**

Dean paced the floor. Twenty minutes had passed and knowing how time passed in Hell he was freaked.

He offered himself another generous glass of whiskey from a bottle he had busted open not long after they went under and poured it down his throat like water on a hot day.

Dean wished Sam was awake to judge him. He prayed to however was listening 'up there' that they were both alright.

**…**

Hands now seperated from each other, they pushed hard against the door as more blinding light seeped out. Sam looked up. The door seemed to go on upwards forever. He then took a peek behind him curious to know what he would see, but the light didn't penetrate the darkness. He was little grateful.

As the door became wide enough they slipped through and instantly regreted it. Wherever they were now blindness would continue to be their punishment because now it was too bright for them to see. Covering their eyes, Sam made sure he was close to Missouri. Even though she had agreed to do this task with him, he felt responsible for her.

The putrid smell of things long dead filled their lungs making them cough hard and their eyes tear up. It was inescapable.

Something began moving as it skittered beside them the horrible smell lingered with it. Missouri moved her head blindly to the sound.

"I can feel something." Missouri's scared voice traveled into his ears.

Sam almost looked up.

"What?"

"Something's here with us!"

The creature brushed against his side and skittered away again.

"What are you?" Sam found the courage to say. He couldn't see it but he knew that this thing was huge.

Suddenly a high pitched voice assaulted his mind.

"What are you doing here!" It screeched. Sam threw his arms up to cover his ears, keeping his eyes tightly shut. Beside him he felt Missouri to the same.

"Where looking for—."

"I think you know why!" Sam cut her off abruptly and listened hard for the thing.

"What you're looking for isn't here! Get out!—GET OUT!"

Both Sam and Missouri screamed from the pain of how loud this thing spoke.

Getting worried, he grabbed onto her again.

"Missouri, you okay?"

"We need to get out. I'm not sensing your brother here."

"That's because we're not deep enough yet."

Hearing the screeching sounds the creature was making as it gradually grew agitated by their presense, they scrabbled for the door they had come through and pulled, but it wouldn't budge.

"Shit!" Sam shouted. '_Okay, okay. Keep it together!'_

Sam clutched onto Missouri and put her hand in his.

"Hold on tight, we're gonna run and hope to find a way out of this place."

The thing roared beside them and a thick wet substance covered their top half, sliding down their torsos. To Sam it tasted of copper and sulpher. '_Demon blood.'_

Taking it as their queue, they ran like headless chickens, hands out searching for anything that felt remotely like a door.

It raged on, repeating for them to 'get out!'. Missouri wondered how she managed to keep herself on her feet she was so afraid.

The thing let out an ancient wail of despair and an overwhelming sadness creeped up on them, bogging them down. A memory tugged at Sam's mind and felt that at some point he had made that sound. Feeling Missouri slowing down, Sam brushed it aside. He was determined for them to make this through and so pushed on for both their sakes.

Walls made of brittle bone and hot jagged rock scrapped and burned his finger tips making them sore. Turning a corner he felt it.

Sam yanked at her hand, pulling her sideways.

"Missouri, come on! I found a door!"

Helping to push it open they rushed out and almost tripped over discarded body parts.

They stood on top of what appeared to be a rocky mountain, as the beyond dead and repair laid strewn about their feet.

Missouri screamed.

Light from roaring fires below lit up the vast cavournous place. They could finally see.

Shutting the door they walked to the edge and crouched down. Looking downhill they could see the souls of millions screaming in agony as they were senselessly tortured into nothing. Large billows of black smoke flew about, some manifesting into faceless creatures with great long talons for hands and feet, bodies thin and withered.

Sam looked over at Missouri and watched as she silently sobbed beside him.

"I can feel him. His pain…"

"You can sense Adam?" Sam perked up.

Missouri nodded.

Sam couldn't believe it. "No. That's impossible. He's in the cage with Micheal and Lucifer. That's a long way down yet."

"I don't know how but I know he's down there, Sam."

"Alright. Come on, let's get going." He offered her a hand and she stood on wobbly legs. This whole experience was crushing. Continuing on downwards they started to feel the effects of the furnace from below as their skin began to burn.

**…**

An hour had passed and Dean had taken a seat from the kitchen as placed it in front of the psychic and his brother.

A little spaced out from the amount of alcohol consumed, he slouched in the chair and watched as Sam's brows knitted together, clearly stressed and Missouri's lax face as tears slid down her cheeks from underneath closed eyelids.

Dean imagined how this whole scene of the three of them must look very fricking strange to a normal person.

**…**

The lower they got the harder it was for them to sweat as the heat intensified and dryed it out. Parched toungues searched for water but only felt sand.

The closer they got whispers of the dead filled their minds with words of fear and phantom pain, trying to stop them from going downward.

Missouri tried to avoid looking at the countless souls suspended in mid air as black smoke hovered over them. She focused on Adam, feeling his frigid frightened soul calling out from deep within her.

Sam could feel his skin starting to stiffen as it baked from the instense heat. Unexpectantly, Missouri stopped almost touching his raw skin.

"What is it?"

Missouri looked up at him.

"Can you see him?"

Sam searched around with his eyes. He couldn't see his little brother anywhere.

"No. Why do you?"

She shook her head. "No, but I almost feel like I can reach out and touch him."

Missouri rubbed a hand against a rocky wall and it suddenly gave way. They toppled over in surprise. Peeking into the shadowed cave they could see movement.

Missouri stepped inside. "Adam, is that you?"

Sam brushed past her exited to see.

"Adam it's me, your brother Sam. We've come to get you out of here!"

Sam moved in closer making the firelight from outside illuminate the cave. Missouri's shadow moved out of the way. There in the far corner they watched a naked humanoid form shrinking away from them.

Sam was horrified to see his brother in this way.

Pitched black sockets were void eyes. His body was thin to the bone, fingers unnusually long and his skin was grey. Adam's disfigured soul scrabbled backwards away from them.

Gulping down his emotions, Sam held out a hand.

"We're no going to hurt you. Just—just take my hand."

Adam hid his face as he curled in on himself and let out an animalistic howl.

Sam was paralysed in shock as brother's cry shook him to the core. Memories of protecting Adam from wrathful Angels forced their way out.

As Sam stood there reeling Missouri took charge of the reigns and tried to get control of the situation. It was imperative that she get through to him otherwise things could turn more sideways than they already were.

"Sam, come on snap out of it!"

Sam remained standing staring at Adam with tears streaming down his face. Both hands combed through his hair and he tugged. Seeing that he wasn't listening, she slapped him across the face. Hard.

He stumbled backwards and looked down at her with confusion written all over his face.

"Why'd you do that." He rubbed at his cheek.

"We don't have time for this, Sam! My skin hurts, I'm thirsty, there are monsters with no names surrounding us right now and soon they're going to notice us—and I'm telling you once they do it ain't gonna be pretty!

"We are too close to finishing this for you to have a melt down now. We need to grab him and get him the heck out of here and the only way that's gonna happen, is when you get your crap together!"

He nodded like a lost child as he internally stitched himself back up. She was right, now wasn't the time.

Finally coming on board with Missouri they rushed over to Adam and on either side they clasped onto his bony wrists. From the force of Sam's hand he snapped a bone in his arm, making Adam cry out, a deep unnatural sound.

From where the stood they looked out of the cave to see Demon's beginning to pay attention. Billowing smoke cascaded down towards them preparing to attack.

Missouri's eyes peirced at Sam expectantly, adrenalin pumping her heart fast.

"Come on Sam, they're coming!"

Ignoring the broken arm, he looked up. '_Christ!' _Takng a deep breath he shouted the incantation to get them out.

"Verbi Dei, hoc poscit opem anima innocens a cursu et tormenta ad hoc Regnum nostrum!"

**…**

"Sam?"

Dean stood up from his seat slowly as he watched blood pour from Sam's nose and as his face turning red.

Suddenly Missouri's eyes were open with fear, hands that remained clasped on the sides of Sam's head shook as his head moved from side to side in a frenzy.

"Missouri, are you okay? What's happening?"

Dean daren't touch him.

"I don't—I don't know!"

Sam's mouth opened wide and screamed.

"ADAM!"

From the back of the house Dean could hear the gut wrenching sounds of Adam screaming.

**Translation**

**1** We demand to enter the depths of Hell to retieve the soul of an innocent from the word of God.

**2** From the word of God, we demand to take this innocent soul and rescue it from the heedless tortures of this domain and return to ours.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam's shouting gradually stopped as Dean willed him to calm down, breaking the overwhelming fear that his brother felt from the residue of Hell and turned into silent tears. They slipped down the sides of his face and soaked his hair, eyes a little red from the pressure of trying to force the pain from within down and gain control. Opening his eyes, Dean's worried face hovered above his, blurry from tears. Missouri slowly removed her hands away from his head and placed them stiffly upon each lap. Depression made her feel numb and as Sam sat up and swung his legs off of the sofa and planted his feet on the floor, Dean moved away and watched as Missouri sat in silence, pupils blown and eyes far away.

Another anguished cry resounded from the back of the house and it slammed the brothers into motion. Sam jogged out of the room with Dean in tow, leaving the psychic to drown in her head. There was nothing they could do for her right now—they had a brother to save.

Throwing the door open, Sam and Dean were surprised to see Adam in place of were the Demon once laid, dressed in the rags it wore, just managing to cover up his privates. Dean went to grab a blanket whilst Sam unshackled his limbs as he shook them frantically. Adam's skin was freezing.

Dean wrapped the blanket tight around his torso and when Sam removed the last shackle on his right ankle, Adam flew off the spring bed and squished himself into a corner, whining like a dog.

Sam crept towards him his palms raised non-threatening, trying to reassure his brother that there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Hey, it's me remember? We got you out…"

Dean stood behind, nervously. The whining grew louder, but Sam continued to walk closer.

"Adam I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk."

Stopping in front of him, Adam cried loud and fierce and began scratching and biting his arms. Blood poured down his feral wounds and dripped down his elbows.

Sam rushed him holding on tight to his arms, pleading him to calm down, but no matter how he tried he wasn't getting through to him. Adam bit and punched as hard as he could trying to get Sam off of him. Dean came to help but only got the same treatment. They released him and stood before their brother huffing and puffing, watching Adam wrap himself tight in the blanket obscuring his face. He peeked at them through a gap in the fabric.

"Do you want something to drink? To eat?" Sam waited for an answer.

Adam remained silent.

**…**

Dean opened the cap off of his whiskey bottle and handed it to Missouri who was still sitting on the chair. Wiggling the bottle in her face finally caught her attention and Dean smiled bitterly as she came to. She took it quietly and drank a few large gulps, screwing her face up from the harsh bitter taste. With her eyes still closed tightly, she blindly handed it back huffing from lack of air and Dean gulped a few mouthfuls, enjoying the burn down his throat.

She turned to Dean. "I don't drink much…, or even think to. I'm one of those people that has a special bottle or two sitting around somewhere wrapped up in a brown paper bag for years," she shook her head, as if she couldn't believe the thought, "but being around you boys…"

Dean chuckled humorlessly. There wasn't anything he _could _say to that. Inside it angered him that that was the case for him and his brother; just coming into people's lives and turning everything upside down.

Missouri looked around in a slight daze. "Where's Sam."

"He's in the bathroom cleaning his face up. You should too. There's dried blood all over it." Missouri brought her hand up to her face and rubbed it over the crunchy blood under her nose and on her mouth and chin. She looked down to see where the rest of it had bled into her mauve button-up blouse.

Sam shuffled in from the hallway and rested an arm on the doorway of the living room, limp above his head, his eyes hooded with exhaustion. He squinted at her with concern.

"Missouri, you okay?" She subconsciously held onto her arms, attempting to comfort herself _from _herself.

"No. I'm not sure I will be either." Sam nodded, understanding.

Dean sat in his wooden chair looking as if he didn't want to be part of anything. Sam picked up on his hunched shoulders and distant eyes trying to avoid his, which made him seem uncomfortable with himself. The whole atmosphere was weird and unnerving. Sam removed his arm from the doorway and rolled his shoulders back standing straight.

"Hey, er, I'm just gonna go talk to Adam." Sam looked at Dean, his face unreadable.

"You be careful."

"So you boys won't be needing me?"

Sam stopped mid turn and contemplated her. He shook his head.

"Nah. You can go whenever you please."

Missouri stood up and stretched. Boy she was relieved. Picking up her hand-bag with shaking hands, she strode over to Dean and taking him by surprise, pulled him into a fierce hug. He gently patted her on the back. Releasing him she looked at him with such empathy, a small lump formed in his throat and he coughed from the pressure. At that moment he could feel the heavy weight of the universe compressing down on his shoulders.

"Remember what I told you before. I'm not too far away if you need me, alright?" Squeezing his biceps she let go and held onto Sam. He nervously patted her also.

"I'll speak to you later, Missouri." She smiled.

"You just worry about yourselves. The only way you boys can be strong as brothers is if you're both on the same page, fighting for the same cause. That's the only way you're gonna be able to beat this ride you're on." She chuckled. "You two have your issues, you don't need to be a psychic to figure that one out. Maybe you both need to hash it out or just move on from them but _remember_ it's that _bond _that you boys have is what matters the most. Your Daddy counted on it."

Pulling at the hem of her cardigan, she waved them goodbye and stepped out into the evening fresh air, leaving the brothers feeling raw like open wounds.

**…**

It had only been two hours since Missouri had left to go home and Dean was already pissed off. All that 'looking out for each other' business Missouri was preaching about—out the window. Sam wasn't listening to anything he was saying because in his stress from Adam's distress he was flailing around like a headless chicken doing _everything_ to help their brother, but it was plain to see—to Dean—that nothing he was doing was working. Whenever Dean tried to be of assistance, Sam would just push him away.

Adam would whine underneath his blanket or would suddenly burst into a frantic, running about the room and throwing himself against the walls hard, or bashing his head against the window. They removed anything that could be used as a weapon because Adam would use things that looked sharp to hurt himself with and sometimes on his brothers.

He would roar and scream at the top of his lungs for hours until his voice became dry and shredded. It was painful to listen to and to Dean, Sam was painful to watch.

Subsequently Dean had stormed off from their bickering. He couldn't handle the arguing anymore, so he sat steaming in the kitchen eating a pizza slice they'd ordered earlier, thinking about how ridiculous it was that they were arguing over their little brother as if they were a young couple who had brought their first newborn baby home and was starting to feel the effects of a crying child.

Later Sam walked in warily and slumped against the cupboard doors beneath the kitchen surface, both avoiding eye contact. Dean breathed in deep and threw the crust into the box with distaste.

Dean moved his head in his brothers' direction watching from the corner of his eye as he drank a couple glasses of neat whiskey.

"How is he?"

Sam looked down at his feet, in mid action of pouring himself another glass.

"As okay as can be, considering." Sam continued to pour the contents of the bottle into his glass and sniffed. "He's sleeping."

Dean nodded. "Good."

As they remained in the kitchen in silence; Dean trying not observe Sam's drinking habits lately and Sam not having the energy to try to care about how rude he's being, Dean mumbled to his brother about going to bed and that he would see them both (Sam and Adam) in the morning—or whenever.

Sam ignored him as he shuffled his way out.

**…**

Sam woke up next morning with a bitter taste in his mouth, a dull ache in his head and behind his eyes and muscle cramps after crashing out on the sofa from a whiskey binge the night before. Automatically his analytical mind sloshed through his half dead brain for reasons why he wanted to get that much wasted in the first place and remembered Adam alone in that room needing him. Forcing his body into an upright position, he hobbled over to his duffle bag which sat in the same place the day before and took out his pain pills and dry swallowed three of them. '_Might as well get'ta little buzz too'._

Life was wearing him thin and after coming out of Hell and the guilt of finding their brother that way down there, the guilt was overpowering.

.

After the brothers got themselves cleaned up, ate breakfast, tried to force feed Adam and a failed at teaching him to clean himself, it was well into the afternoon. The brothers were tired from the mess that was their brother and their ears were ringing from the shouting at each other and Adam's constant shrieking. They wondered whether he could speak or not.

They ordered pizza again for their late lunch/dinner just to fill the holes where their stomachs used to be and waited for their food.

Forty-five minutes later and their pizza arrived. They chomped it down like wolves and when they were finished Dean doodled about on the laptop and Sam went away in the back room to feed Adam.

Sam shuffled back into the kitchen with the pizza untouched and dropped the box on the kitchen table, startling Dean.

"What's up?"

"He's still not getting anything down." Sam replied blandly. Sam opened their last full bottle of whiskey. Dean watched in silent judgement, mentally pushing down thoughts of worry.

A third into the bottle and Adam's screaming revved up again. They could hear him throwing himself about the room. They stared at each other, eyes speaking volumes.

They moved fast into the room and ambushed him against the wall and waited for him to calm down, giving him words of encouragement and safety.

This time, it wasn't working. Adam was doing his damn hardest to harm himself and continued on his self destructive rampage. He rubbed his face against the wall fast making the skin burn away and bit hard into his tongue and thick blood poured out from his mouth.

"Shit!" Sam cried and they let go of him. Dean observed Sam. He looked wild and on the verge of losing it.

"Adam, just calm down. We're trying to help you, why can't you see that? It's different here, different than what it was like down there!" Sam spoke fast, eyes frantic and pleading. Dean could see Sam was trying _so _hard to be strong for their little brother, but he felt he was the only one that was running on all cylinders.

"I think we're gonna need to drug him for now." Dean suggested. Sam wasn't listening either. Dean made to grab his brother's arm.

"Back off!" His eyes still on Adam. Sam shook his brother off him as he continued to ramble on at Adam. Dean pushed down hurt feelings.

"Sam you just got back from Hell, you're not thinking straight—neither of you are. He needs to rest even if it's drug induced."

Adam began to cry hoarsely from damaged vocal cords.

"No!"

Dean huffed in frustration. "Sam, just stop!"

Still ignoring him, Dean decided he would have to take matters into his own hands. Going back into the living room he went through his own duffle bag and pulled out a syringe full of morphine.

He ran back to the room and removed the plastic lid. Squirting a little drip of morphine out the syringe needle, unbeknownst to Sam as he stubbornly continued to calm their hysterical brother, Dean tapped the inside of Adam's arm, waiting for a vein to bulge and pressed the needle in.

Finally noticing what Dean was doing, Sam tried to stop him but Dean shirked him off.

"Dean what are you doing?"

Adam's screams slowly subsided as the morphine kicked in and he slid down the wall and sobbed into his blanket.

"I'm doing what needs to be done." Dean's voice hard with resolve.

"And what's that? Forcing drugs into him? Dean he just came out of a place that violated his very being!"

"Whatever works for you Sam, but this is better than listening to him scream himself hoarse." Sam yanked at his hair angrily.

"God Dean, it wasn't necessary! I had it under control."

"Really?"

Sam stared at Dean, his face hardening. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing Sam. I'm not gonna argue with you." He looked down at Adam and watched his face become placid, his body relaxed as he rubbed a spot on the blanket with his thumb. "Look at him, he's spaced out right now which is much better than being constantly manhandled and coddled by his big brothers. What you're trying to do for him isn't enough."

Sam nodded bitterly. "Yeah, you would think that. Sam messes everything up and can't make the right decisions about anything so Dean will come and sweep up his little brother's mess!"

"Don't make this about me, Sam! This is about you feeling guilt for everything that has just gone down!"

Sam gripped the bridge of his nose and concentrated on controlling his breathing. This was getting out of hand and he needed to get a grip of himself before he said something out of proportion. He needed to get away.

"You know what? Whatever Dean. I'm gonna hit the sack."

As he turned to walk out Adam chose that moment to speak up for the first time since he came back from Hell.

"Why'd you leave me there?" Sam stopped, his feet rooted for a couple of seconds before pivoting around. Dean looked at him his eyes round and confused, as if he was unsure he heard right.

"What did you just say?" Sam asked, his voice soft with surprise.

Adam's unwavering gaze pierced Sam. "You heard me. Why did you leave me there—in the Cage?"

Sam gulped and his brows furrowed together with worry. Dean was unsure of how to handle the turn of events; This was something neither of them had planned for.

"I, it wasn't my fault Adam. I'm sorry." Adam began sobbing silently, rubbing the constant downpour of tears from his eyes and wetted his hollow bruised cheeks. He irritated the sore scabs on his face making them red again.

"Why? Why did you leave me to rot down there with those, things? Those things," He whispered. "—they were… I don't know what, how to describe them…" His voice trailed off into quiet ramblings.

Sam was rooted in the same spot with a vacant look. Dean glanced at him worriedly as he crouched down to Adam's level. He spoke to him.

"Hey. Let's talk about this later, alright. Just try to get some rest." Adam, to Dean's surprise, complied with no defiance as he continued to rub his thumb on his blanket. Dean pulled the blanket behind his back and wrapped it around him and it hung off his bony shoulders. Adam slowly closed his eyes mumbling under his breath to no one in particular. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying and didn't think he wanted to.

The whole time Sam remained in the same spot. Dean stood up straight and walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Sam you okay?"

Sam panted, his heart pounding hard against his chest. Blood slowly dripped from his nose and he suddenly felt light headed.

Dean watched as his brother's face blanched.

"Hey! Talk to me?"

Sam looked down at his brother, and felt a tickle on his lip and wiped it with the tips of his fingers. '_Blood'_. It confused him.

"What? No. I…" Sam eyes rolled up into his head and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Dean looked from Sam to Adam wondering how the hell he was going to deal with those two when they woke.

"God-damn it!"

'_Little friggin' brothers!_' Dean thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**NOTE:** Latin was used instead of Enochian because I couldn't get a full translation for the words I wanted to use for the incantation.

(used Google Translator for Latin so I don't know if it's 100% accurate)

.

Dean dragged an unconscious Sam from under his pits out of the 'trial room' into the living room. He threw him roughly onto the sofa and left his long limbs hanging off the edge. Dean stood straight with his hands on his hips a little out of breath from dragging his brother's heavy weight and scrutinized Sam, thinking about how much he had turned into their father over the years.

It was just as well; Sam never had his mother in his life. He would never understand what it's like to have a mother that baked with love and a father who wasn't full of grief and locked into vengence. It was no wonder why Sam had chased that normal life of settlement and family. Dean had that snatched away from him from an early age—but he had memories that Sam didn't have the chance to share, other than a broken family that drifted from town to town without a place to call home. Always feeling like the outsider in their messed up family because he didn't have the bond that their father and Dean had from a life long ago. No home cooked meals or proper holidays for the family to get together and friends to grow up with.

Although Dean knew how much his brother wanted that normalcy, it was dawning on him that in the back of Sam's mind he always believed that his happiness wouldn't last for very long and that he was excepting his life for what it was; because no matter how many times he had walked away from hunting, he would always get thrown back in or would walk back into it. Sadly the life that they'd been subjugated to—envisioned by a higher power from before they were born—was all they had and knew to do right.

Throughout the weeks, Dean watched in silent scrutiny as Sam stretched himself thin from the stress of the trials, the unknown future and a past of new beginnings left behind. He felt powerless to help and be the rock because as usual Sam wasn't letting him in. It seemed to be the same as always; Sam didn't like that Dean was the one keeping his thoughts inside and drinking it away but Sam was actually the one that was best at keeping secrets—well the ones that mattered most. Sam was as much an open book as their father.

Looking at his still form on the sofa for a couple of minutes, thinking about how much they needed to hash things out, he walked away and went to clean Adam up. Dean bathed his battered skin covered in self inflicted bruises, cuts and sores from using friction to burn himself. Dean walked out of the room leaving Adam in a drug induced doze, snuggled up in his blanket on the floor.

**…**

The sharp frozen ground felt like tiny razors on Sam's too thin skin. However long he had been down there in the Cage with his brother, it had left every nerve, every inch of his body fragile as the shell of a snail. He laid stiff on his front his head lifted up and palms stuck to the ground on either side and watched Lucifer from afar perched on what looked like a tall and twisting volcanic rock; rough and dark in colour. The cavernous throne room that the Cage was, was dim but the two creatures that resided inside with him and Adam were the only light source.

Micheal shone the brightest. His blue tinted light burned when they got too close, which was a difficult feat because he was so great in size. Whenever Sam and Adam looked at him their eyes would boil and char in their sockets.

Lucifer was different.

To Sam, the Morning Star was the most beautiful, the most magnificent creature his eyes had ever laid upon. As Sam remained on the ground he stared at Lucifer in his true form, his extremely long talons hooked and embedded into the rock he stood on, colossal reptilian wings outstretched on either side attached to the back of his ferocious humanoid body covered in gnarly scales. Tall marbleized horns spiraled straight atop his head, black with pointed ends. Sam watched in fascination as a dark mass of smoke hovered about his body, covering Lucifer's features but his eyes—they glowed through, white and penetrating, piercing into his soul.

Sam rested the side of his face on the icy ground and his eyes fell upon Adam. To the right of him he could see his little brother laying on his back still as death but eyes moving around in there sockets as the Archangel Micheal hovered brightly over him. Before Sam shut his eyes, he saw the Angel's ethereal hand ripping stringy guts out of Adam's stomach and then pulling upwards, ripping his lungs out of his throat.

The image played behind his eyes over and over again, the memory of what appeared to be Michael's face watching his brother in sick fascination, knowing that although his body was still, his soul writhed inside.

Opening his eyes slowly, Sam's gaze glided about the Cage and onto Lucifer who remained on the rock. He could hear the Angels talking in Enochian, a language he was not only accustomed to but was gradually understanding. Micheal spoke to Lucifer like a child eager to please and the Fallen Angel appraised him like a loving father. This was his domain and now he was sharing it with his older brother. After so many millennia of lives torn apart by envy, hatred and war now they could finally bond again as Heavenly brothers, but in Hell. They unanimously had something that they agreed on and that was their wrath for God and most of all, for the two humans they inflicted torture upon.

As Micheal continued to destroy his victim, Lucifer looked over at Sam and as their eyes met, the beast threw his head back and roared like a dinosaur. Fear ran up Sam's spine knowing what was to come as the sound of Lucifer's taunt stabbed into his ears making them gush blood.

The Fallen Angel took off his throne, soared into the air and flew over to Sam. In mid-flight Lucifer shifted into his vessel prior to Sam; in the form of Nick. Sam began breathing heavily, but his face couldn't show how much fear he was in, it was so cold.

Nick's face smiled wide, his blue eyes held no emotion, no empathy for the human maggot before him. Lucifer silent and tall, waved a hand in the air and watched his power force Sam onto his back. More hand waving and invisible knifes sliced each toe slowly from his feet.

Sam opened his mouth wide as he screamed, shrill and animalistic. Lucifer's invisible power sliced into both ankles, both knees, and the top of the hips. He sliced fingers from hands, hands from wrists, elbows and arms removed from the shoulders. Sam laid out on the ground with only a torso, severed limbs laying useless beside him like a stringless marionette. Blood pooled underneath him and crystallized.

Lucifer's laughter joined with Sam's screaming as his right hand shifted into talons. They were long and shiny as knifes and the glowing eyes came back, black smoke spilling from his mouth. Putting his transformed hand close to Sam's face, he moved fast, and began stripping skin and flesh from the bone and eating it, making sure Sam saw everything.

"Mmm," Lucifer smiled like a Cheshire cat. "You taste of fear and humility."

Tears turning into ice, Sam looked at his body, his mind unable to comprehend why who couldn't move his limbs. Glancing at the Fallen Angel, he saw his clawed hand grab into his throat, feeling tissue being pushed aside and Lucifer's arm yank out behind him, his throat taken with it. Meat chunks were thrown onto the ground and he gargled to death on his blood, awaiting the bliss of death.

**…**

"…Sam. Sam… Sam!"

Dean shook his brother frantically, trying to wake him from whatever nightmare his brother was going through. One moment he was cold and stiff as a board, the next he's choking and turning red in the face.

After two minutes of shaking and shouting his brother's name into his face, Sam shot up from where he lay and fell to the floor, grabbing at his throat. With his face buried into the carpet Dean placed a hand on his shoulder coaxing him to calm. Suddenly Sam stood up and raced out the room and out the front door. Breathing fast he squinted as the midday sun stung his eyes and cold pinpricks of sweat coated his face. He began to feel light-headed as the world swirled around him. He could hear his brothers running footsteps crunching on the gravelly ground from up behind, talking to him, but he couldn't answer.

Sam folded over and threw up on gravel and dead weeds.

After a few painful dry heaves, he wiped the tears from his eyes and hobbled past Dean, bumping into his shoulder as he headed back into the house. There was blood in Sam's puke.

Inside the house, Dean could hear Sam rummaging around—it was almost like he was turning the place upside down. He followed his brother back inside to see what all the ruckus was about.

In the kitchen, all the cupboard doors and draws were left open, plates, dishes and cutlery the family who had lived there before and had left behind was either broken on the floor or cluttered the kitchen surface. Out of date tins of beans and boxed dried foods spilled off the table leaving a mess on the floor. Their duffle bags were strewn across the living room to the landing (as if it had been thrown), clothes and weapons spilling out.

Dean headed up the stairs, hearing the loud thumping sounds his brother was making. Standing at the doorway and looking inside his place of rest, the bed he slept on was turned over, the covers removed. Sam stood by the window breathing with exertion.

Dean frowned at his back.

"What the hell is all this Sam?"

Sam turned around to face him. "We don't have anything left to drink do we?"

"What?" Taken aback.

Sam rammed past him and jogged down the stairs, Dean followed right behind. At the front door Dean grabbed his shouder and yanked him around.

"Sam, what's going on with you?"

Sam ripped his brother's grip from his shoulder and flung the front door open, headed straight towards their parked car.

"Sam!"

"What Dean!" Sam swirled at him, suddenly furious.

Dean's face harded in defence. "You Sam. One minute you're choking to death the next you're smashing the house down. What's going on?"

"There's nothing going on, now leave me alone Dean!"

"No!"

Sam turned his back ignoring him. He pulled out the car keys from his jeans he took out from his brother's jacket pocket earlier and went to open the car door. Dean raced to stop him.

Spinning round, Sam shirked him off and punched him square in the jaw, taking Dean by surprise. Dean touched his split lip, feeling emotionally wounded. But he wasn't going to give in. Maybe the softer, more understanding route was the way to get through to him.

"Sam, when has burying our problems ever done us any good, huh?" Dean sighed. "I just want you to know I'm here if you need to talk. That's what brother's are for, right?"

Dean watched Sam's eyes turn dead as he finally opened the driver's door. "I'm going for a drink. Don't wait up." He sat in the seat, slammed the door shut and sped off leaving Dean feeling sore inside and out.

**…**

Sam returned three hours later drunk. During the time he was gone getting shit faced, Dean had been worrying himself into the ground, willing himself not to go out and look for him. He so wanted to punch Sam hard in the face, drag him back to their hideout and then beat some sense into him. Although in Dean's mind it was a beat-down he deserved, Dean couldn't if he wanted to. He needed to stay behind for their mentally unstable brother—not that either of them were favouring any better.

So between the stressing out and the self preservation, Dean tidied up the mess Sam created, cleaned and sharpened a few of his weapons and tried to feed some sugar water to Adam. It was the only thing he would drink since solids was out of the question. Adam thought food to be rotten flesh and that water would turn his insides to ice.

.

Hearing the Impala coming up the drive, Dean stood at the front door flabbergasted as he watched Sam almost crash the car into the house. He stumbled out the car door and slammed the door shut, making Dean wince. Sam was a little steady on his feet as he made his way to the front door of the house. Dean moved out of the way, trying to suppress any negative outbursts at the tip of his tongue.

"You alright?"

Sam walked down the hallway towards Adam's room.

"Sure." Sam replied flatly. Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam leaned heavily on Adam's door, struggling to focus on the handle. Finally managing to get it open he stumbled inside, to find Adam still on the floor, but now awake and looking frightful at the large intruder.

Sam held put a hand out on the wall to steady himself and shook his head sadly. Dean came in afterward watching cautiously from Adam to Sam.

Sam took a deep shaky breath.

"What's wrong with you?" He looked at Adam and stared at him accusingly. "Why can't you see that you're not there anymore? That you're here with me and Dean. Safe."

Sam slumped his back onto the wall, crossing his arms. Adam remained silent with eyes unseeing. Running his fingers through his scalp he stood there quietly with Dean planted to the spot unsure if he should say something or not.

Time ticked on by as Adam peeked through his blanket afraid of Sam as he continued staring at him. For a while Sam was blank faced but suddenly anger flashed in his eyes.

He rushed at him and grabbed hold of his shoulders shaking him aggressively. The blanket fell off his head and wobbled, his skinny kneck barely able to hold it up.

"Adam I know you can hear me in there!"

In fear of what damage could be done, Dean ran to Adam's rescue.

"Just stop pretending! Just, just…," Sam's voice broke with emotion. "You're not in Hell anymore.

Now that Sam had stopped shaking him, tears poured from Adam's eyes unable to understand what was going on. Sam's fingers dug into his shoulders.

"You can go to Heaven and see you're mother again. Don't you want that?" He asked hopefully.

Dean tried to remove Sam's tough grip on Adam. As Adam's whining grew louder, the more it grated on Sam's frustration.

"What's wrong with you!"

"Sam let go of him!"

"Get _off_ me Dean!" Sam roared attempting to push him off. He turned his attention back to Adam. "Wake up damn-it!"

With one final tug Dean managed to pull Sam off their little brother who was now trying to attack his face with his clipped fingernails. Dean held down on his wrists and gave Sam an exasperated look as he stumbled backwards, eyes now full with unshed tears.

"I just want him to be okay. That's all I want. It's what he deserves."

Dean shook his head.

"Gah."

Sam bent over, clutching his chest coughing harshly. Blood spurted from his mouth onto the dried demon blood stain on the floor.

Knees buckling and landing hard onto the ground, he moaned in pain as coughs tore at his throat and lungs.

Dean stood up between his brothers unable to do anything for the both of them. All he could do was watch as Sam's jeans turned red, afraid of what it meant—that Sam was beyond his help and beyond hospitalized assistance. Adam continued on beside him making animal noises.

It was like he was in the cinema watching a horror movie. Everything was horrible to watch but he still couldn't look away as the disturbing scene continued to unfold before him, feeling strangely detached from it all.

Through the bloody sputtering and the roaring in Deans ears, he could hear a voice calling out. Looking over to the source, he watched Adam's mouth moving calling out Sam's name, eyes bright and seemingly clear. His fingers clawed at the wall using it as leverage to stand up, still clutching onto his blanket.

As the coughing abated, Sam looked about the room and is shocked to find Adam gazing at him lucidly. The buzz from the alcohol becomes a controllable hum in the back of his head.

"Adam?"

"Are you real?" Adam asks timidly.

A smile spreads across Sam's face. "Yes. Yes I'm real."

Dean feels uncomfortable, feeling like an odd-ball as his brothers converse.

"Am I, am I out?" Adam stands on shaky legs. Sam nods. Adam's on the verge of tears as he looks over to Dean, who still looks uncomfortable. "Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm here. We all are." Dean croaked.

Sam sniffs. "Adam we don't have enough time—."

"You're bleeding." Adam looks at Sam's jeans covered in blood, his ashen face. Sam glances down himself, nodding.

"It's alright."

"You're hurt?" Adam asks distressed.

"Look, Adam it's okay. Just, just listen alright. I'm gonna ask you a question, and the question I'm gonna ask you, you have to give me a yes or no answer and you have to mean it."

Adam frowned. Sam walked over to him.

"Do you believe God is the saviour of your soul?"

"I don't—I don't understand."

"Do you believe God is the saviour of your soul?" Adam isn't paying attention. He's looking around the room; at the large blood stain on the floor, his brother's bloody jeans, the damaged walls. His marred skin.

"Adam are you hearing me?"

"This—I'm in Hell aren't I? I'm back in the Cage with, with you. With Lucifer and Micheal…"

"Adam, listen to me!"

"His eyes, it burns my soul!"

Sam ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Dean didn't move a muscle knowing it was for Sam to resolve. This needed to end now otherwise Adam died before the trial was even complete. The boy was running on empty.

"Adam," he replied softly holding onto the sides of Adam's face to get his attention. "Remember your mum. Remember where you were when you last saw her?"

"I don't know—?" He looked so scared.

"Think! Where were you?"

Adam's heavy breathing tappered as he tried to remember. Then his eyes turned bright like a flick of a switch.

"I was…, we were in Heaven. We were happy. Dad was there." Sam nodded fast, relieved his mind had come back to the now.

"Dad's in Heaven?" Dean asked. Adam just looked at him with glistening eyes.

"You can go back. There'll be no more pain. You can be happy again." Adam looked at Sam, eyes clear.

"But first you have to kill me." Sam nodded bleakly.

Sam put his head down, then stared him in the eyes. "Do you believe God is the saviour of your soul?"

Adam breathes through his nose, releases the air and smiles softly. "Yes."

Sam smiled sadly and huged him. They let go and turn to Dean who pulled out a silver knife from his back pocket and handed it quietly to Sam's open palm.

Squeezing his eyes tight, Sam nodded to himself preparing for the inevitable. He looked at the recently sharpened knife and held it in position, hovering over Adam's stomach.

In one blow, the knife dug deep into his gut, slicing into muscle and organs. Adam's screwed his face up from the intense pain and listed over head first as he clutched onto Sam's knife hand. Head falling onto Sam's shoulder, Sam lowered him down to the floor and stood on his knees watching the blood flow as his brother slowly died.

Footsteps disappeared behind him then returned and a hand tapped onto his shoulder. Dean held out a small piece of paper with the last incantation for Sam to read out. With a small cough, he took it gratefully avoiding Dean's gaze.

"Innocens ego animus paratus elegit ianuam regni caelestis intrabunt."

Sam cried out as a fierce bright light burst from Adam's body. The brothers shielded their eyes from the glare and then suddenly the light was gone and Adam's dead body laid stiff on the ground.

The brothers looked at each other wide eyed.

"You've done it Sam. You've done it."

.

**Translation**

**1** The innocent soul I hath chosen is ready to enter the gates of Heaven.


End file.
